it beside the Wildcat's stake.

The Wildcat breathed the hot breath of hope upon the twin cubes in his
hand. "Lady dice, git lovely. Snake babies, coil 'roun' de coin. Grub
cubes, 'semble yo' rations! Army gallopers, as you was! Bam!"

The green clickers subsided near the end cushion of the pool table. A
five spot smiled on the top side of one and a helpful dooce laughed
cheerfully at the Wildcat from the other.

"Hot dam! Weddin' dice done rung de bell. 'At's fo' hund'ed dollars.
Shoots fo' hundred! Fade me! You says yo' blood is hot fo' action. Fade
me!"

The lower jaw swinging from the Spindlin' Spider's face drooped
something less than a foot. His expression was suddenly full of
quinine. He craved an exit while the exit business was good, but a
reputation created by considerable indiscreet language had locked the
door.

From his depleted roll he laid down forty ten-dollar bills.

"'At about cleans me." He looked at the remains of his stake. "'At
about cleans me."

His voice had lost the aggressive quality which had marked his oratory
five minutes earlier.

"'At's eight hund'ed dollars. More like I's used to shootin'." The
Wildcat rubbed his fingers' tips quickly across the taper cubes.

"Eight hund'ed iron men. Lady Luck, stan' by me! Preacheh bones, make
'em bow down. Riveh dice, high an' dry. Over de riffle. Whuff! Bam! An'
I reads seven."

"Ump!" The Spindlin' Spider grunted an accompaniment to a wave of grey
which lightened the ebony of his features.

The Wildcat picked up the mass of banknotes and straightened them out.
He turned to the Spider. "Mule Lip, how much is you got left? Shoots
you fo' what you's got. Mebbe you builds up. Neveh can tell. Mah luck's
boun' to break sometime."

The Spider replied weakly, "I'se got mine. 'At's plenty."

"What you mean you's got yours? Thought you claimed you was a spo't.
You's got money, ain't you? You ain't got yours till you goes broke.
Ain't I right, boys?"

The Wildcat made a quick survey of the faces about him.

From the lips of the Mud Turtle, who had silently joined the group,
came a come-on verdict. "You sho' is."

"Hear dat?" The Wildcat turned again to the Spindlin' Spider. "Hear
dat? You ain't got yours till you goes broke. How much is you got?
Shoots it all. Double or nuthin'."

The Spider weakly disgorged his roll. He counted out a total of two
hundred dollars.

"Boy--one pass an' I cleans you. Li'l snow flakes, sof'ly fall. Come
on